


all these tricks you try and pull

by brophigenia



Series: the one where gansey and kavinsky are sexually antagonistic toward each other (aka the gangsey/dream pack turf war series) [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Car Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Taunting, and technically no fucking, except there is no bar, okay so this is like lawful good and chaotic evil meet in a bar and then FUCK, sexual competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 12:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21299750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brophigenia/pseuds/brophigenia
Summary: “Heard you had a good talk with my boys.” Kavinsky drawled, head cocked, watching Gansey with an expression on his face like he wasjust barelyrestraining himself from cackling. “Heard you had a lot to...say.”(AKA, Kavinsky and Gansey have a... meeting after the punching incident. It goes just about as well as you'd expect. With sexy results.)
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Joseph Kavinsky
Series: the one where gansey and kavinsky are sexually antagonistic toward each other (aka the gangsey/dream pack turf war series) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535504
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	all these tricks you try and pull

**Author's Note:**

> BearB1tch was like "have you thought about writing a follow-up to kiss with a fist where gansey seeks out the pack and gets undone in a car by jiang and swang? (with k watching depending on the verse)" and I was like "WELL I HAVE NOW" but then that became this, soooo.

_ everybody knows _

_ i’m a motherfucking monster.  _

_ *** _

“Dick.” Kavinsky said, genial as a wolf might be to a little girl with a basket full of food to take to grandmother. As if he were alone with Gansey on a dark path and he didn’t necessarily mean to use those big, sharp teeth, but wasn’t  _ opposed  _ to it, either. He took up too much space in the backseat of the car that Gansey had been ushered into like an office in some high-class high-rise instead of a douchey Mitsubishi on a backstreet in Henrietta, Virginia. Kavinsky  _ lounged _ against the far door, thighs sprawled and arms sprawled and  _ grin  _ sprawled, careless but coiled. He was a wild fucking animal, himself, and Gansey was wrathful and annoyed just  _ looking  _ at him. 

“Kavinsky.” He said back, clipped, and resisted the urge to flee. He’d been the one to seek this audience out, come alone except for Noah in his passenger seat silent and watchful, an invisible guard dog who’d disappeared when Gansey had parked the Pig right behind where Kavinsky and his pals had made their own roadblock of hastily-arranged imported flash. 

(If Gansey was a king among men, Kavinsky was a king among  _ beasts.) _

“Heard you had a good talk with my boys.” Kavinsky drawled finally, head cocked, watching Gansey with an expression on his face like he was  _ just barely  _ restraining himself from cackling. “Heard you had a  _ lot _ to...  _ say.” _ This was punctuated by a leer down at Gansey’s lap, done exaggerated and  _ lewd  _ like he expected his vulgarity to embarrass Gansey, to turn him into some blushing schoolboy  _ prude.  _

And maybe it might have, if Gansey had not been alone, without the benefit of his friends to keep him tied to his mortal flesh, to his morals and his upbringing. As it was, Gansey was no man tonight, and what he  _ was  _ wasn’t the sort to get  _ embarrassed.  _

“More than you.” Gansey replied faux-carelessly, and allowed his own thighs to sprawl open, his own expression to crack a little keener on the edges. “I didn’t know you’d send your dogs to do your dirty work.” 

Kavinsky  _ cackled,  _ one hand covering his open mouth while those dark eyes shone madly in the streetlights. He was terrible to look at, nothing on him  _ beautiful  _ but nothing on him hideous, either. He was only  _ strange,  _ and all the more frightening for it. 

Gansey was as  _ American  _ as it was possible to be, his ancestors once clothed in blue and carrying muskets around the various fields of New England, shooting any lobsterback they could. Nothing on  _ him  _ was strange, except perhaps that he was not carved upon the rockface of Mount Rushmore. 

He was the Great White Hope— Kavinsky was a Great White Shark. 

“Oh, they  _ volunteered.”  _ He said with relish, once he was finished laughing. “I’m disappointed you  _ didn’t  _ send your bitches here for me. Parrish looks like he’s got a mouth on him.” Kavinsky said it in such a way that there was no mistaking his meaning, lascivious to a fault. Gansey gritted his teeth and felt a flush rising to the back of his neck. 

“You’re a sick fucking bastard, Kavinsky.” He spat, and reached behind himself for the door handle. 

It wouldn’t open; Gansey looked over his shoulder to find Swan and Jiang’s backs both visible through the window, leaning all their weight there to keep him trapped inside the cage with their leader, who looked more bloodthirsty by the second. 

“C’mon, Dick.” Kavinsky said consolingly, and paused for a moment to pull an unmarked orange pill bottle from his pocket, popping something luridly purple and shaped like a Flinstone vitamin. He offered the open canister wordlessly to Gansey, shaking it a bit, and then shrugged and stowed it away again when Gansey only gave him an incredulous look. “We don’t have to keep these catfights going. Let’s settle this like men.”  _ Like men,  _ he said, mouth twitching, because even Kavinsky knew that they were both of them incapable of such a thing, the same way hawks were incapable of acting like ducks. 

Still, the curiosity was too much for Gansey. Crossing his arms, he asked the question that Kavinsky was clearly waiting for. “What did you have in mind?” 

The answering grin was wide and white and terrible; there was no way Kavinsky’s teeth weren’t porcelain veneers, put in by an especially-skilled oral surgeon. The crumpled energy drink cans in the floorboards testified to  _ that.  _

“Take out your cock.” He said, eyes glowing with hellfire and wicked delight. 

Gansey blinked, incredulous again. It made Kavinsky snicker, whatever he’d taken obviously adding to his good cheer. “C’mon, Dicky G. Whip it out. Bet I can hold out longer than you.” 

The words made no sense; Gansey felt stupid with it, dumb in the hot, close air of the Mitsubishi’s backseat. Kavinsky undid his own belt one-handed, showy and obscene as he pulled out his cock, long and thin and uncut.  _ Hard.  _ It looked… he looked… Gansey tasted fire in his mouth like he’d taken a shot of vodka. 

“C’mon dude, don’t make it gay.” Kavinsky leered, making no fucking sense, giving himself a slow stroke with those long, pale fingers. 

“You’re—“ Gansey began, looking for an insult that would scour Kavinsky to the bone but not finding one ready-made on the tip of his tongue. There was nothing he could say that would make Kavinsky anything  _ less _ than what he was, though what  _ that  _ was, Gansey had not the words to say, either. 

Instead of fumbling with inadequate words, Gansey pressed his tongue to the roof of his own mouth and swallowed down both fear and fire as he opened the flies of his pants, drawing his own half-hard cock from their confines. 

(Later, he’d not be able to explain  _ why  _ he’d done it, only that in that close, half-dark space there was nothing else that seemed reasonable, nothing else that seemed  _ possible  _ to do. Gansey’s teeth ached and his face flamed and he gave himself a firm stroke that took him to full hardness. 

“Oh, King Dicky,” Kavinsky cooed, hungry-eyed, practically frothing at the mouth in his sheer sadistic pleasure. “For  _ me?  _ You shouldn’t have.” 

Gansey gritted his teeth. “Are we going to—“  _ do this? Or not?  _ He couldn’t bear to finish the words. He couldn’t bear it. This all felt like a concession. Felt like  _ losing.  _ Nothing was right. There was no way to  _ win. _ Kavinsky had gotten what he wanted simply by getting Gansey in this car. 

“Eager.” Kavinsky taunted with a quicksilver grin, and he stroked himself again, quicker and harder this time. “Let’s do this, baby.” 

To an onlooker, it would’ve been ridiculous— the pair of them pressed up against opposite car doors, cocks out, stroking themselves while they stared into each others’ eyes like murder was possible simply by gazing deep enough. Gansey expected— he didn’t know  _ what  _ he’d expected, only that he’d not be so close so fast, so near in proximity to Joseph Kavinsky, the most repellant human being he’d ever laid eyes upon. 

“You’re just—“ Kavinsky bit out, groaning, almost-enchanted by the sight of Gansey, so close that he had to bite his lower lip to try and hold off, abs clenching and throat working. Gansey, golden and perfect and  _ loathing.  _ A prize all by himself. “C’mon, c’mon,” he mumbled then, nonsensically, and came seconds before Gansey, swallowing over and over again as he shook, come spurting onto his stupid  _ Dying In New Brunswick  _ tee shirt. For a moment he was blessedly, perfectly still and silent, eyes closed, face relaxed. 

He could’ve been beautiful, for a moment. 

The moment was too short. Kavinsky came back online with a snort and a double thump of his fist against the roof of his car, clearly a pre-decided signal that had Swan and Jiang opening the door they’d been pressed against so fast that Gansey fell backwards out of it, tumbling onto the concrete with his soft cock hanging out still and his nerves shot. 

“Ooh,  _ Dick.” _ Skov laughed, jeering, hanging bodily out of the passenger side window of Prokopenko’s Golf parked recklessly-close to the curb just ahead. Prokopenko was smoking a joint and lounging on the hood, palming himself in his too-tight black jeans. He made a lazily obscene gesture with his mouth when he caught Gansey looking, for all the world as unconcerned as it was possible to be. There existed nothing in Prokopenko’s blown-pupiled world besides Kavinsky— no fear, no propriety, nothing. 

_ “Animals.”  _ Gansey spat at them, hastily rearranging his clothing so he could stand full-height and glowering as terribly as he could, the wrath of a king bearing down impotently on the subjects of another. They were not afraid of him, nor intimidated. Under Kavinsky’s rule they were more than men. 

Gansey wished, suddenly and fiercely, that Blue and Ronan and Adam were with him. That he could set them upon Kavinsky’s pack with a wave of his hand. That he could watch them devour, tear and  _ hurt.  _

It was an unbearably selfish wish,  _ and yet. _

“Gansey.” Noah said, quiet and unseen by all, just off Gansey’s left shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

Gansey went, because there was nothing else to do. He’d come for a battle and lost it even in the act of arriving, before the gauntlet was ever even thrown. To meet Kavinsky on his own turf was to meet him in the impossible place between the asleep and waking world, in the dark when things were not as they seemed. He’d come expecting a man and instead found a creature of the night. 

He’d not make the same mistake again. 

***

_ i don’t apologize— _

_ i would die for this shit.  _

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ brophigenia.tumblr.com


End file.
